Comforts
by IsOkayGood
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione attempts to ease Harry's mind only to receive a unexpected comfort of her own.


He had gone off again; she hated when he did that. Harry wasn't the sort who fared well in solitude, no matter how much Ron would debate it.

"'Mione," he grabbed her hand as she made to follow Harry. "He needs space."

On some level, she knew he was right; they could all use a little space right now. This whole war had made everything claustrophobic, as if every move you made decided between life and death, between winning and losing. But she also knew that Harry, like her, could likely use comfort more than space. She wasn't sure Ron quite understood what it was like to truly feel alone and isolated – he had always been surrounded by (even if he doubted it at times) a loving family. Harry had never had that privilege - growing up with those awful Dursleys – and she had always noticed how her little comforts toward him had gone a long way. She was sure he needed that now.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said, looking back to him. "He could use a friend right now. You should be with your family, so I'll look after him."

She could see a look of worry flicker across his face for a second, but it quickly disappeared. Ron had never been fully confident in himself, anyone could see that, but he had certainly improved over the years (save for the incident along their Horcrux hunting trip), though no matter how hard she tried to remind him that he was Harry's best friend, he never seemed to fully believe it. Giving him a small, reassuring smile and nod, she pulled her hand from his and headed toward Gryffindor Tower. Something in her mind said she'd find Harry there.

Stepping off the spiral staircase was like stepping into another world itself; everything was in shambles still, though it was hardly as bad in this part of the castle as it was others. Everything had been so overwhelming over the past year, but even now that all of it had come to a close, the chaos still seemed to linger. She knew that this war was over now, that she wouldn't have to fear for her life or for those around her, but nothing felt any different. She wasn't sure what she had expected, maybe for the weight on her chest to lift or to see her friends smile again, but instead it was all as it had been.

After slowly treading through the rubble, she came upon Gryffindor tower. Where there once was the Fat Lady sat an empty picture frame. She assumed, like many of the other portraits, she had gone to comfort her friends – both portrait and human alike – and assure they were safe. She pulled the portrait open, almost expecting to walk into a bustling common room, however it was empty, as one would expect. A part of her had hoped Harry would have been there by the fire, lost in thought (as she often found him), but the fire was long out and Harry was not there.

_The dorms_, she thought. It was no secret that Harry would hide himself away there when he needed his quite. Hell, she'd do the same if it weren't for the fact that her dorm was populated by a few too many giggling girls.

It wasn't the first time she'd made the trip up the stairs to the boys' dorms - it had become a habit from all the times she was the substitute for their alarm clock, though she never minded that much - but this time, everything was different. Of course, things hadn't quite been the same ever since fourth year, but what with the culmination of everything, watching all those people that they cared so much about die in front of their eyes, well, she supposed her heart was a little heavier this time around.

Room after room she passed, finding them empty, that was until she reached the seventh year boys dorms. She hadn't been expecting to find him so far off, but she could hazard to guess.

"I would have slept here... if things were different," he said. He had been holding his head in his hands, but seemed to know it was her standing in the doorway.

She leaned against the frame of the doorway, silent. She wasn't quite sure what to say, in all honesty. After all, he was the one born into this awful role.

"I'm sorry, Harry," her voice was quiet but conciliatory.

He looked up from his hands, giving her a knowing sort of look. That was the thing with them; they didn't always have to say what was going on, sometimes they just _knew_. She never seemed to have that with Ron, though he never wanted to talk about things with her anyway.

"I wish a lot of things were different."

Of course, they all wished things were different. She wished that everyone was still alive, no doubt Harry did, she wished she hadn't had to erase her parents memories (which was a particularly painful thing to do), she even wished things between the three of them were different, though she wasn't about to mention that last one any time soon.

"Do you think..." he started, pausing for a minute. "Do you think things would have changed between us if none of this had happened?"

She gave him a questioning look, before he replied. "You and me, I mean."

"I suppose they might have. I think we'd still be friends though. At least, I'd hope so."

They were both quiet for a minute.

She walked over to his side, sitting on the bed next to him. She hoped that had eased whatever was bothering him, but he still looked off in a disconcerting way.

"What's wrong?" There was many things wrong, of course, but she needed to know what specifically was hurting him right now if she was ever going to be able to help. She may have been intelligent, but it wasn't as if she could read his mind... well, not like that.

"Everything's wrong, Hermione. All of it. This whole bloody war, this year, even Ginny. None of this should have happened," he kicked at the carpet, noticeably angry.

"What... what's happened with Ginny?" She hadn't heard of anything that had gone on between the two of them, but she supposed it could have gone on more recently. Relationships weren't exactly her main focus over the last little while.

"Nothing. I mean, she's great, but she's not... she's not you."

She was taken aback. He couldn't possibly mean what she thought he meant. After all, this was Harry Potter. They had been best friends since first year, since he and Ron had saved her from the troll. She never thought that Harry would see her in that way, Ginny had been so adamant about being with him that what hope she had once had (a hope that _had_ been there) that she had backed off. No, he must've meant as a friend, really.

"It's alright, I know you like Ron and..."

"Harry, wait," she stopped him. Yes, she did like Ron, but Harry had always been the one who held her heart; he had, blushingly admitted, been her first crush, her first love and she had unwillingly still kept those feelings. All the bickering, the animosity between her and Ron at times, well, it was tiring. Sure, she and Harry had their disagreements, but never to the point where she felt herself hating him.

He looked at her somewhat eagerly for a response and she felt guilty. For so long, she had thought about a relationship with him, she had wanted to grow old with him, but now... now there were Ron and Ginny. They were both wonderful friends to her and the thought of hurting either of them was enough to not want to pursue it, but on the other hand, this was her feelings. She had always been ready to put those around her before herself, but for once, just for once, she wanted to be greedy. She didn't want to have to care about what Ron and Ginny and anyone else thought. She wanted to follow her heart and let herself be happy for once.

"Merlin, Ron's going to hate me," she said with an awkward laugh.

"Are- are you sure? I mean, you don't have to say you like me just because it's me, you know."

She nodded her head, "I'm sure." And she _was_ sure. To be honest, she didn't think she'd be happy with Ron; there was too much jealousy there, too much bickering. She owed it to Ron not to make him think it could work when she was sure it wouldn't.

"He'll hate me more, you know."

Before she could respond, she felt his hand on her jaw and his lips on hers. She was surprised, to say the least. For one thing, Harry had never been the most forward person, especially when it came to girls, well, not that she'd seen. For another, she was still wrapping her mind around the thought that he had even thought of her like _that._ Not that she was complaining.

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling away from her. "I've been waiting a while to do that."

She frowned for a second; he was a good kisser, at least she thought so. There was no one to compare that thought to, but in the grand scheme of it all, she had enjoyed it and wanted it to last longer. Her face quickly turned bright again, a smile creeping across her lips.

An awkward silence fell between them, neither really knowing how to continue.

"I... I should go," Harry said, standing. "I'll see you later though?"

She was still adjusting herself to all that had happened, but looked up at him. "Of course," she grinned.

"Don't worry, I'll deal with him," he said, giving her a reassuring smile back.


End file.
